


Charitable Bone

by RenaRoo



Series: Fluff Prompts [14]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:46:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4099783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While his sister is ill, Damian offers her some secretive kindness and hugs. Not from him, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charitable Bone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Effar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effar/gifts).



> Prompt: ( thecoattale ) CASS AND TITUS. CUDDLES.
> 
> A/N: You are the greatest friend to have ever friended and never let people tell you otherwise because omg my weaknesses all in one

Cassandra does not often get sick.

Alfred says she has an iron gullet, considering the volume of food she consumes and what exactly those volumes tend to consist of. It's not completely off base. She's adjusted to eating almost anything.

While patrol exposes all of them to every bacteria and virus making its rounds in the city, she is sick significantly less than her siblings and even her father. She's simply built an immune system as strong as an ox by this point in her life.

But it isn't to say she's purely _immune_ to everything.

She's just completely unprepared for the flu when it hits her and hits her _hard._

*

Miserable and wavering between hot and cold, Cassandra has wrapped herself in her comforter, laying on her stomach with only her head poking out. She's never quite had a flu like this, and considering Bruce's facial expression when he promptly left after his last check up, she's not exactly in the most _manageable_ of spirits either.

Even Alfred's soup tastes like warmed up paste on her tongue.

She's simply not in the food for _anything_ or _anyone_ but she's so tired of sleeping...

If it didn't make her so dizzy to stand, Cass thinks that running up and down the Manor stairs would be a lovely way to deal with being stir crazy.

She's still considering her options -- sleeping, rolling over, sleeping, grabbing another few pillows or blankets to add to her nest -- when her door opens.

Cass directs her reddened eyes to the much-too-bright hallway just as her youngest brother slips in.

Raspy, she mutters, "Littlest brother," which comes out entirely too much like _"limmmingess burrtter"_ in her coughing syrup-induced slur.

It's then that, peripherally, she realizes that the ever present dog is by Damian's side, sniffing around the room he probably frequents the least of all the Wayne siblings.

Almost amusedly, Cass huffs which turns into a cough.

Damian's lip curls in that vaguely disgusted way it does when faced with things like affection and germs. But he's bound and determined when he looks at his sister again.

"Grayson informed me that it's tradition to get you stuffed creatures when you're bedridden," he says formally.

Cass begins to look over to her pile of stuffed toys stacked at the head of her bed, but it makes the world spin a little too fast so she refocuses -- albeit hazily -- on her brother. She sniffs loudly.

"Pennyworth seems reluctant to leave the house even for a run to the store considering your condition," Damian continues. "And considering your _outburst_ at Father, it seems he and the rest of the collective here have abandoned Pennyworth and myself to face your wrath alone."

"Heh," Cass laughs. She idly wonders what about the flu is making her voice so husky.

 _"But_ I will not forsake tradition," Damian says firmly, "no matter how inane."

Cass blinks lazily as Damian snaps his fingers and pats the side of her bed, encouraging his lumbering pup to climb up next to Cassandra's curled up form. The dog whines once but a sharp look from Damian makes him lay his head back down.

"Titus will keep you company until I have a replacement," Damian announces. He waits a moment, in which Cass does nothing, before huffing. _"Tt._ You're _welcome,_ Cain."

He turns and briskly leaves the room.

Titus whines as the door closes. Cass coughs.

*

Still unable to sleep, Cassandra stares at her newest "present" as he continues to occupy a healthy amount of space on her mattress. It doesn't seem to make Titus stop even for a minute.

The dog's comically tiny rawhide bone -- all that was left for his amusement apparently -- is being held precariously between his giant front paws as he licks and nibbles and pulls at its folds.

It's honestly disgusting. If Cass had kept down any of her lunch she might have lost it. But in her utter boredom and foggy mindedness, Cassandra has lost all will to look away. She's almost, comparatively, fascinated with her brother's dog.

His tail snaps like a whip as he thoroughly enjoys his bone. And Titus may, in fact, be the most spoiled dog Cassandra has ever met as a result. She sort of loves it.

It's also then that they take note of each other fully for the first time since Titus entered her room.

The dog's dark eyes look at her deeply for a moment, he releases a whine. She sneezes before planting her face into the mattress and releasing an exasperated breath.

She then feels the shift of the bed before something disgusting and wet is dropped on the back of her neck.

Cass moans and shifts, knocking the bone off her neck and out of her already sickly greasy hair, before glaring at the dog now standing above her.

Titus presses his nose against her face, breaths in her scent twice, and then plops down next to her. Cass glares.

The dog then, surprisingly enough, nuzzles his bone to knock it back toward Cassandra. His tail wags and Cass understands.

Weakly, she reaches out of her bundle of sheets and blankets to pat his head. Titus leans in and messily licks her face, making her laugh.

"Good dog," she rasps again.

Titus wags his tail emphatically.

*

It's some unknown amount of time when Cass knows through sleepy observation that her brother opens the door again, perhaps to reclaim his dog.

But Cassandra is curled around Titus and he is snoring softly beneath her, equally as wrapped up in her web of comforters and sheets, and she squeezes him just slightly more in response to the room invasion.

"Mine… for now…" she mutters, hoping beyond hope that it sounds as dangerous outside of her congested head as she thinks it should.

Titus kicks but otherwise doesn't stir in response.

There's a soft _Tt_ before the door closes again and Cass smiles as she closes her eyes and buries her face against her newest friend again.


End file.
